Waiting
by GalaxyGirl181
Summary: 5 Chance encounters with the Baker Street boys. Johnlock ridiculousness.


The first time, I was waiting at a coffee shop. I'd ordered my drink, and sat down in a squishy chair to wait, and I saw him. Across the shop, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to every geometry test there ever was. I couldnt help noticing the wild, messy, gorgeous curls, the high lines of his cheekbones... well. Then, belatedly, I noticed the bloke across from him, staring at him even more obviously than I was. Cute, short, blond, and very male. Damn. There went that fantasy. Suddenly Gorgeous Guy leaped up, startling the blond, (and me) out of our skins, and yelled "I've got it, John!" "Obvious, completely obvious, YOU could've seen it."

("Thanks," 'John' Muttered) "The aunt, John, she saw it all, she's covering for them... he trailed off, muttering, "Lestrade... doberman... The Donut Shop..."

Of course, just as my day was getting interesting, my phone buzzed.

'I'm outside. Hurry up. Mum' As if it could be anyone else. Casting a last look at John and his quite possibly insane companion, who was now arguing with him about the shape of eyebrows and texting furiously at the same time. "Good luck, John" I muttered, and left.

The second time, I was waiting for the bus. It was raining like the powers that be wanted us all to evolve back to fish, and I was underdressed and shivering. Suddenly a cab pulled up across the street, and the curly-haired madman from the coffee shop staggered out, clutching a bloody nose. "Is it broken?" He called behind him as his companion tumbled out. "If it's not," replied John, "It will be when mrs Hudson catches you dripping blood on her rug again." "Jesus, Sherlock, do you have to pick a fight with every slimy git who questions your intelligence? even if they're three hundred pounds and wasted?"

"Yes." Came the madman's- Sherlock's- reply. And they both stumbled in the door of 221b.

The third time, I was waiting for dinner at Angelo's. My mum and I were in the middle of a discussion (read, verbal war) about politics, when I happened to glance up and saw a familiar head of curly raven hair, and across from it, the familiar fascinated (read, besotted) expression of his companion. I glanced over now and again, and though I only caught bits and pieces (Moriarty... poison... this bloody candle...) I was now thoroughly intrigued by the enigmatic... detective? And his adorably short... boyfriend? And decided to do a bit of searching when I got home. But... I didnt want to seem like a stalker, and after all, they seemed to show up everywhere anyway.

The fourth time, I was waiting for a haircut. I was incredibly bored, so I picked up the nearest magazine, and there he was... wearing the stupidest hat to ever disgrace the planet. "Consulting Detective", hmm? Apparently Sherlock was quite famous. Even did some work for the Royal family once. (Dear God, I hope he's wearing pants under that.) And ruffled the feathers of practically everyone he laid eyes on. Everyone, that is, but John Watson.

The fifth time, I was waiting for Sherlock Holmes. I was simply too curious for my own good. I stood outside 221b, imagining a thousand different scenarios in my head, nervous and jumpy, until finally, finally! A cab pulled up and a figure in a long coat leaped out, dragging a shorter figure by the hand. "Sherlock!" Bellowed the shorter one, "What are you doing?" We've missed something, John. Alonzo... was telling the truth. The fruitcake.. was poisoned. Who on earth are you?" He'd almost bowled me over. "You're not a client. You're not giggly enough for a fan... What are you doing here?"

"I'm an innocent bystander," I said, "Who can no longer stand the suspense. Are you, Mr. Holmes, and Mr. Watson-" "Doctor" said Sherlock at the same time John said "Don't bother, Sherlock."- "Together?"

"Of course, you idiot," said Sherlock. "Now go away and let us do the very important work of protecting you from the very scary and very real monsters under your bed." I grinned so wide I thought I might sprain my face, and said "See you around, Detective." And watched the two madmen go galloping up the steps, still holding hands.


End file.
